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China’s great “position‑zero” web‑grab
“When 18 per cent of your queries no longer lead anywhere off the page,” Robin Li told investors last summer, “the economics of the internet change.” He was announcing that Baidu’s Smart Answers now resolve nearly a fifth of all searches—about 800 million a day—without sending users beyond Baidu’s walls (Chinese Digital Marketing). In the nine months since, that share has crept higher and the ripple effects are being felt from newsroom boardrooms to China’s copyright courts

Google took almost a decade to nudge users from ten blue links towards answer boxes. Baidu has done the same in barely two years, helped by its home‑grown large language model, Ernie Bot, which handled 1.65 billion daily interactions in December 2024—up from 600 million in August (Reuters). Alibaba has folded its rival Qwen 3 into Taobao search; the hybrid model flips between “Thinking” and “Non‑thinking” modes so shoppers can, for instance, ask the site to draft a birthday poem and then instant‑buy the recommended gifts (Alibaba Cloud).
Upstarts are forcing the pace. In January DeepSeek open‑sourced a competent GPT‑4‑class model that cost under US $6 million to train—a bargain that triggered a price war and wiped billions off chip‑maker valuations in a day (Reuters). The message to incumbents: make AI cheaper, or be undercut by someone who will.
For publishers the maths looks brutal. Baidu’s in‑house syndication network Baijiahao already corrals content from 2.6 million partner accounts (SEC). If your article appears in a Smart Answer, the click may never leave Baidu; if it doesn’t, your link has sunk below a lengthening AI answer box. ByteDance is now piling on: Douyin’s beta “AI Search” feature pumps generative answers—sourced from short‑videos and the open web—into China’s favourite time‑sink (Aibase News). Brands that once relied on Baidu SEO now wonder whether they must master a second, video‑driven algorithm to remain visible.
Platforms are also hoarding data. Last August Baidu quietly rewrote Baike’s robots.txt file to block Google and Bing from crawling its 30 million‑entry encyclopedia (PPC Land). Keeping the corpus at home starves Western models of fresh Chinese‑language material—and bolsters Baidu’s own answer engine.
In America the response to traffic loss has been lawsuits and revenue‑sharing deals. Beijing offers no collective‑licensing right, so local outlets face a starker choice: feed the beast or vanish from search. The regulatory climate, meanwhile, is anything but laissez‑faire.
Chinese judges have moved faster than their Western peers in defining who owns what in the age of machine creation.
Taken together, the decisions warn platforms to police user prompts, while reminding would‑be claimants that pure machine output is shaky property.
For two decades China’s internet ran on a familiar exchange: publishers gave search engines free content, search engines sent back eyeballs. Answer engines break that pact. Publishers now see three unpalatable options: strike revenue‑shares inside Baijiahao or Douyin; pay‑wall aggressively and hope users will still click through; or sue—and risk finding that courts, like those in California, side with AI “fair use”.
Robin Li insists all this is good for users, who get “smarter answers, faster”. That may be true. Yet as AI chews up more queries, the danger is that China’s once‑chaotic, link‑driven web contracts into a handful of heavily moderated, vertically integrated super‑platforms. The West fears the same future. Beijing, by contrast, is busy writing the rule‑book for it.